


The Bravery of Kind Hearts

by Anonymous



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Past Abuse, Scars, gen - Freeform, mentions of child abuse, mentoring relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 04:23:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8953543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Fill for Kink Meme Prompt: Credence isn't the only one who has scars left from family





	

“Mr Graves!” Credence called from down the hall, Percival could hear him jogging down the hard wood floors. Clearly the Christmas excitement had gotten the better of the boy again.  “Mr Graves, Sir, Tina says that it’s almost time for dinne-”

Percival arched his brow, glancing over his shoulder to check on the boy when he fell worryingly silence. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, turning back to his wardrobe to carry on with his attempt to pick out a suitable shirt for Christmas Dinner/The cause of the invasion of his apartment. 

“I… yes. Sorry Sir. Tina says dinner’s just about ready. And she says you have to participate. That’s the whole point in all of this.”

Percival shook his head despairingly as he decided on one of his more comfortable shirts and pulled it out, carrying it over to the bed. 

“I don’t see why. I’ve managed this long without making a fuss over the holidays, I don’t know what makes this year so crucial,” he said, before frowning slightly when he glanced up at Credence and spotted the boy eyeing him with some degree of… alarm really. 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asked.

“Yes, I just…” he trailed off, biting his lip a little nervously. 

Percival paused his work on unbuttoning the shirt to turn his full attention him, folding his arms over his chest. 

“Credence, I’m not going to be angry with you. If something’s bothering you, please let me know.”

The boy still seemed hesitant, but after a moment of visibly working up the courage (though Percival was sure it wasn’t intended to be a visible mission) he finally come out with it. 

“Mr Graves, sir, those scars, on your back… they… they don’t look like the ones you get from work.”

Percival’s brows rose a little at that, his hands straying to one of the stripes of raised, scarred flesh that wrapped around to his hip. 

He scoffed softly. 

“I’d almost forgot they were there,” he said with a shrug, before turning back to his shirt. He figured Credence would feel more uncomfortable if this was a discussion they had with his full attention on him. 

“They’re not,” he replied as he worked on the buttons. “I got them when I was younger.”

He glanced up and wasn’t too surprised to find the boy looking a bit pale.

“Was it… like my Ma?” he uttered, eyes wide.

Percival inclined his head calmly in reply. 

“Similar I suppose,” he said with a shrug. “It was my brother though, rather than my parents. There’s a fair difference in age between him and I. He took on a more parental role when I was growing up. He was, perhaps, a little ill equipped for the responsibility.”

“He… he beat you?” Credence uttered, frowning. “Were you bad?”

“At times, I’m sure,” Percival said with a shrug. “But I think it all had a lot more to do with my brother than it did me.”

“How, sir?” the boy asked, he sounded genuinely puzzled by it all. 

Percival shrugged again.

“Well, if I was bad, but he approved of it, I’d not be beaten. And if I was good, but he disapproved, I was. The beatings were quite dependent on my brother’s interpretation on the situation rather than the situation itself. And then of course there were times when he was just frustrated, but I feel that was more of a brotherly level of torment than the whippings were. Like I said, they are somewhat similar to your own marks.”

Credence faltered at that.

“But mine were because I was bad,” he replied, frowning.

“In your mother’s eyes, yes,” Percival said, turning back to the boy as he pulled his shirt on and set about buttoning it up. “Objectively, that doesn’t seem to be that much the case. How did you feel when she beat your sisters, may I ask?”

Credence bit his lip, his eyes turning downward to stare at the floor instead.

“I hated it,” he uttered. “I tried to stop it when I could, take the blame where I could.”

Percival nodded. 

“You felt they were treated unfairly.”

“Most of the time, yes Sir.”

“There were times when they deserved what they got?” Percival asked, brows raising again.

“Not _ what they go _ t, no Sir. But they were bad sometimes, everyone is.”

“That’s not what we’re debating though,” Percival replied with a shrug. “It’s whether the punishment fit the crime, and it seems both you and I agree that mild disobedience, perhaps even outright disobedience, is hardly cause enough to warrant thrashings to the point of bloodshed, or permanent marking.”

Credence grimaced and nodded. 

“I suppose sir,” he muttered, before slowly looking back up at him, meeting his eye since he’d spotted the scars. “I wish I could see things more like you, Mr Graves. Everything still… it’s all still messed up in my head. I get what you and Tina and the others say, but at the same time I still think I deserved it sometimes. But then I don’t think anyone deserves to…. To feel like that. Why should it be different for me? But I still feel like it is.”

“I’ve had 25 years  to reach my conclusions, you’ve had scarcely 12 months,” Percival said, walking over to the boy and squeezing his shoulder gently. He was gratified when he didn’t flinch as a result. “Give yourself some more time, Credence. You still have a lot of adjusting to do. Your life has changed considerably from what you knew, anyone would need time?”

“Even you?” Credence uttered. 

“Even me,” He replied, nodding. “Right now, I’d be proud of one thing though.”

“What’s that sir?”

“You’ve still got a kind heart,” Percival said, giving the boy a rare, but warm smile. “Not everyone can maintain one. Many allow their pain to harden them and turn them cruel, to protect themselves, to release the anger inside of them. But not you. That in itself is an act of bravery as far as I’m concerned.”

A small smile tugged hesitantly at the corner of Credence’s lips at that. 

“You think I’m brave?” he uttered, quiet enough to almost pass as a breath.

“Without a doubt,” Percival replied seriously, nodding firmly, before giving him another small smile and pat on the shoulder. 

“Now, come on,” he said, nodding down the hall. “Time for another act of bravery. It’s time for us to get this ridiculous excuse of a holiday over and done with.”

“You don’t mean that sir,” Credence replied with a small smile of his own. “I saw you pulling a cracker with Dougal earlier.”

Percival scoffed quietly at that, pressing a finger to his lips.

“He gave me sad eyes. It was a horribly manipulative look.”


End file.
